[CLOSED]
Who: oathbroken and prescientblade
What: Jaime asked for sparring partners and got Teresa. Fortunately for his pride, they met in Dismas. Behold the post-spar drinks.
When: November 6
Where: The Foxhole!
Warnings: Probably filthy nonsense from Jaime? ROFL. IT IS HIS WAY.
[Well, he definitely hadn't seen that coming. And if someone had told him a few months earlier that he would have been bested in personal combat by a rather slender, extremely attractive woman, he would have-- ...well, he would have said "Unsurprising," with his driest voice. But that's because, at that time, he'd lacked a usable hand.]
[In a manner of speaking, it was Loras all over again - even as he takes his seat at the bar, he's convinced he could have bested her if he hadn't been convinced, at the time, that he could best her. In the end, it's always his confidence that gets him. Even so, confidence issues or none, he can't help staring at Teresa with no small measure of wonder. That a woman had such skill was less surprising than it would have been a year ago - the maid of Tarth had managed to break a good number of his assumptions to pieces with the flat of her blade and the heel of her boot. And even before Brienne, there had always been those damned Mormonts. But someone like Teresa...]
[Ah, well, it's fair to say it raises a few questions in him.]
[Not the least among them being What sort of world puts such a woman to work in the battlefield instead of the bedroom?]
[He'll need to ask. That, if nothing else, ought to be amusing.]
So, Teresa. [Emphasis to make a point - she had objected to wench, and to woman, though she was of no particular name or standing. But he supposed such skill deserved the courtesy of a proper name, at least.] Do you prefer wine or mead? Perhaps a nice ale.
[He smiles a little, that golden boy grin.]
I've always preferred wines, myself.
What: Jaime asked for sparring partners and got Teresa. Fortunately for his pride, they met in Dismas. Behold the post-spar drinks.
When: November 6
Where: The Foxhole!
Warnings: Probably filthy nonsense from Jaime? ROFL. IT IS HIS WAY.
[Well, he definitely hadn't seen that coming. And if someone had told him a few months earlier that he would have been bested in personal combat by a rather slender, extremely attractive woman, he would have-- ...well, he would have said "Unsurprising," with his driest voice. But that's because, at that time, he'd lacked a usable hand.]
[In a manner of speaking, it was Loras all over again - even as he takes his seat at the bar, he's convinced he could have bested her if he hadn't been convinced, at the time, that he could best her. In the end, it's always his confidence that gets him. Even so, confidence issues or none, he can't help staring at Teresa with no small measure of wonder. That a woman had such skill was less surprising than it would have been a year ago - the maid of Tarth had managed to break a good number of his assumptions to pieces with the flat of her blade and the heel of her boot. And even before Brienne, there had always been those damned Mormonts. But someone like Teresa...]
[Ah, well, it's fair to say it raises a few questions in him.]
[Not the least among them being What sort of world puts such a woman to work in the battlefield instead of the bedroom?]
[He'll need to ask. That, if nothing else, ought to be amusing.]
So, Teresa. [Emphasis to make a point - she had objected to wench, and to woman, though she was of no particular name or standing. But he supposed such skill deserved the courtesy of a proper name, at least.] Do you prefer wine or mead? Perhaps a nice ale.
[He smiles a little, that golden boy grin.]
I've always preferred wines, myself.